Tender You'll Go
by daphno
Summary: Jack's life is full of his usual past times: drink, aliens and Torchwood. But what happens when he realises that the people he trusts are betraying him? And aren't who he thinks they are...
1. Fresh beginnings

**Just a weird little fan fic I sort of had a dream about! Anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you think! =]**

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Captain Jack Harkness couldn't remember a thing. He had no recollection of the past few hours, and it worried him. The last thing he remembered was sitting in a club, drinking too much, with someone whose face he couldn't recall, never mind put a name to. Had he passed out again? Was that why he was lying on his office floor, wrapped uncomfortable in his greatcoat, with the worst hangover he could ever possibly remember?

He straightened himself up and assessed the situation. His head ached, dull and whining, and felt as though someone had pounded him with a baseball bat coated in velvet. Not good. His throat tasted of smoke and nausea… he couldn't remember drinking _that _much.

"Guys!" He shouted as loudly as his pounding headache would allow, before he realised that the Hub's empty sounds meant that he was alone. No one was here to hear his painful pleas, make him soothing coffee, give him gentle smiles.

He briefly remembered sending them home before he'd ended up in the bar with both arms around a pair of faceless, nameless drunks. He couldn't even say what gender they'd been - now he came to think of it, he couldn't really say what _species _they'd been. Just that there had been alcohol involved, in unusually large quantities.

Chuckling fondly at his stupidity, Jack staggered unsteadily to his feet and stretched, peering through the window at the rest of the deserted Hub, subconsciously performing the mental check on his team and their work that had become his habit lately. A pile of folders had spilled off one desk onto the floor; the other was covered with a coating of empty Greggs wrappers and take-out hot chocolate cartons. He laughed fondly again, this time at his team's unique take on work, and slowly made his way towards the coffee machine in an instinctive attempt to numb the headache before attempting anything strenuous.

Odd… the machine was broken. It looked as though it hadn't been used for quite a while, crusting coffee beans littered the bottom. Jack remembered the machine giving in to the popular demand of Torchwood a few days ago, but someone had promised to fix it. He couldn't quite remember _who, _as if it had been some distant dream of someone loved he had known well a long time ago… So, why was it still in this rejected, sad state?

"Torchwood needs coffee," Jack croaked aloud, "Cranky Captain Jack needs coffee." He scowled to the empty space, wishing that someone was here to take pity on him. Tell him that it was his own fault, tut their tongue in disapproval, pat his arm softly. He hated being alone, after the centuries of wandering the lonely earth, he exalted in having his wonderful team at his side, loyal and honest to the end.

He pulled the mobile phone from his pocket and considered calling one of them. No, they'd only be smug towards his hangover, mocking towards his misery.

He settled the phone onto a nearby desk and sank into one of the swivelling chairs, the rocking motion somewhat softening the thudding in his head. He closed his eyes and yawned heavily, stretching his arms out above his head and, with a great effort, heaved his feet up onto the desk, knocking away a plastic folder in the process.

"Oh look what the cat dragged in," came a welcoming voice from the Cog door, and Jack stirred slowly. He'd been so close to grateful sleep that he hadn't even heard the whir of the door as it admitted Torchwood's newest recruit. "You're not immortal from hangovers Jack," she joked, "coffee doing any good?"

"No coffee," Jack grunted, "machine broke. Speak quieter. Headache."

"Oooh," she whispered playfully, elaborating her footsteps theatrically as she walked towards him, "that bad, huh?" She leaned against the back of his chair and draped her arms over his shoulders, massaging his temples gently. "That better?"

Jack opened one lazy eye, "if I say 'no' will you keep doing it?"

"Only if you promise to pay me overtime."

"Deal."

"So, how'd it happen? Vodka? Or the cocktails?"

Jack was pleased that she kept her comforting hands on his temples and muttered, "A combo of both, I think. And something that _definitely _shouldn't have been in a club in twenty-first century Cardiff. Didn't stop me drinking it though."

She tilted his head back with her hands so that he was looking blearily into her dark blue eyes, "Harkness," she frowned teasingly, "you're a disgrace."

"I know, I know," he laughed carefully, not wanting to disturb his now-quiet headache, "it's happened before and it'll happen again."

"Tut tut," she grinned, planting a kiss on his forehead and rubbing his shoulders before backing away towards a computer, pulling the keyboard into her arms. "Ooh look - while you were…_busy…_ there was a Rift energy spike. Some warehouse on George Street. Weevil, I reckon."

"Poison, you speak poison!" Jack hissed amidst his grinning, clapping his hands over his ears. "Y'know, _somehow _I don't feel up to going Weevil hunting. Or doing anything except lazing around here for a few hours, maybe call for a pizza."

"Want me to call the others?" She'd already reached for her mobile and her finger had extended to speed dial number four.

"You're a star, did I ever tell you that?"

"Once or twice, but it's nice to hear it," she flashed him with a bright smile before turning her attention to the person on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, guess who turned up - hung-over! Well yeah, impending spot of bother with a Weevil unless we get on the case pretty quick... Ok, ok, I'll meet you outside in five minutes… Yes, I'll bring the SUV… Fine! You can drive!" She shot Jack an exasperated scowl but he was preoccupied with a strange cut that he'd discovered on his left wrist, with the beginnings of a scab as his body began to heal. Strange… it almost looked as if he'd been _bitten. _But that was impossible - wasn't it? The club hadn't been that rough…

By the time he looked up again she was already halfway towards the door, her bag swinging frantically from her shoulder. She threw him one last over-the-shoulder beaming smile that practically swallowed up his hangover in one sweep before saluting him with a pitying look in her warm eyes.

He saluted back and called hoarsely, "Thanks Erin, Torchwood's lucky to have you."

"Cheers Jack," Erin Thomas replied as she pulled the lever to open the door, swinging her light brown hair over her shoulder and gracefully striding forwards with the keys to the SUV held firmly in her hand.

Jack watched her go with a touch of sadness. Torchwood _was _lucky to have her. He couldn't image how they'd ever cope without her, or how they'd ever replace her if… well, Jack preferred not to think about that. All that he knew was that Erin was the heart of Torchwood: without her Torchwood was meaningless… Jack was meaningless.

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Meanwhile, Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones were doing their best to remain above the ever-increasing water level, but in a ten-foot-long metal canister only three feet wide bobbing up and down in the swift currents of the bay, it was a task easier said than done. Slowly but surely, they were drowning, their wild cries for help unheard by a boss who had never known them, never loved or seen them.

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	2. Business as usual

"Never seen them before in my life," Jack concluded in a final tone, shrugging his heavy shoulders in boredom at the rest of the team, who were all crowded around him and staring at him expectantly. He was much too hung-over to really commit himself to the task they'd set him. So the Hub had received an external transmission of a frantically-recorded video clip by Torchwood technology - why did that mean that Jack had to try and identify the two people on the screen? In his throbbing head, an angry tiger roared, demanding sleep and silence.

"You sure?" Erin prodded.

Jack sighed resolutely. Why were they so insistent with this? "Yes I'm sure… I don't know them. We should still try and help though." Jack hoped, dimly, that they would pick up on his loose use of the word 'we'.

The couple on the screen looked as if they could do with a helping hand, though Jack wasn't sure if their current situation was the sort of thing Torchwood should be dealing with. Sure, they were in trouble. Sure, they had called out for help. But where were the aliens and the guns and the sparkling pieces of technology? The young couple were suspended in a metal canister in the bay which was gradually filling with water - Jack marvelled at the courage they must have summoned to actually send a message through. But that was the odd thing… how on earth (or in Jack's experience maybe _not _earth…) had they managed to patch the video through to Torchwood? And how had they known Jack's name?

"But they knew your name?" Bethan frowned, utterly perplexed at how anyone, much less someone who was drowning, had managed to get into Torchwood's mainframe, past her precious, formidable blockade of hardware.

"I know… weird huh?" Jack's voice perked up as he realised that, if he could distract them with the call for help on the screen, perhaps he could catch up on his sleep. "I get around a lot though," his grin beamed at them, and Bethan rolled her eyes, typing rapidly on the computer keyboard. She brought the short message up again, this time with the audio to maximum:

"Jack!" The two voices bellowed in fright, "Jack - where are you? Jack, we're trapped!" At this point the voices split as both of them began to shout different variations of cries for help. The audio streams became gargled as their heads slipped below the water and their sobbing became more and more frantic, until Bethan hissed in distaste and closed the video.

"Weird…" Jack mused, "did you get their names?"

"No," Robert was quick to answer, and even quicker to disguise his outburst under his grim mask of humour, "I think they were a little busy to leave their names and numbers."

"They're Welsh though…" Jack brainstormed, crossing the room to a large board covered with various newspaper clippings. He extracted a dry wipe marker from the box and wrote in the centre of the board 'Drowning Couple'. "Are they a couple, do we think?"

"The guy looks a little bit pretty for her," Gavin scowled, "but are we really going to take on this case?" His voice sounded tired and strained, though a little impatient.

"Do you suggest we leave them? They might not be aliens but they're still in trouble."

"Yeah but…" Robert flung his arms in the air in an elaborated shrug, "why don't we leave it to the police?"

"Y'know, if I didn't know you so well Robert, I'd think you were trying to avoid work," Jack said with a sly smile as he added 'Welsh' to the brainstorm. "Anything else we know about them?"

"They know Torchwood," Erin supplied.

"And Jack," Bethan took her seat beside Gavin at the table.

Gavin sighed dramatically, "they're stuck in the Bay."

"You lot are hopeless," Jack laughed mockingly, "what happen to 'I only take on the best'? Right - what do we know about the two poor souls submerged in water?"

"They wouldn't say no to a few towels?" Robert crowed.

Jack flung the box of board pens at him. "If you aren't gonna take this seriously, I might as well do it on my own. So… The girl seems to be in charge, she was shouting the most. Pretty little thing - it's a shame really - if she wasn't drowning and I wasn't stuck here with you… And the guy interests me, there's just something about him… Another shame - if he wasn't drowning and I wasn't stuck here with you…" He chuckled at the others, who rolled their eyes characteristically.

"D'you think they're married?" Bethan tipped her head on one side, looking intently at the frozen image on the screen of the two sufferers clutching at each other in desperation.

"I dunno," Robert said scathingly, "why don't you add it to the list of questions we'd like to ask them?"

"All right!" Erin snapped, "there's no need to go off on her like that!"

"People, people!" Jack interrupted, glaring at them in turn, "how about we get back to work? Bethan, play the audio again, this time filter out any background noise - get rid of the sounds of the water."

She played the modified sound clip again, and Jack's brow furrowed in concentration as he listened.

"There!" His eyes widened theatrically and he clutched Gavin's shoulder with the shock of realisation, "play that bit again!"

Sure enough, he heard it again, just as clearly as the first time. While the unfortunate woman was gurgling out her deafening cry for Jack's assistance, her possible-husband sank below the water level and clutched at her for help, shouting her name as he did so:

"Gwen!"

"Gwen…" Jack repeated dumbly, feeling as if he had missed something. His brain jolted uncomfortably, as if struggling to remember something important and yet unable to.

"Gwen?" Erin repeated acidly, wrinkling her nose, "she's Welsh then…"

"We knew that already."

Jack _shushed _Robert's remark sharply as that name swung back and forth in his head, like a never-ending pendulum. It felt heavy and potent, as if it should mean something incredibly important that he couldn't grasp…

"Jack?" Erin said softly from beside: he hadn't even noticed her get out of her chair. She touched his arm gently and he flinched at her hands, as if she were a dangerous stranger… "Jack? Does that name mean something to you?"

Did it? He wasn't sure… Perhaps, a long time ago, so distant that he could hardly remember, he had known someone by that name? But then again…

He wrote the four letters slowly in red ink, considering them. It was like trying to recall the memory of a childhood friend, someone whom he had forgotten long ago…

"No." He flashed them all his lopsided grin and clapped his hands together loudly, "but let's get on with some work, shall we team?"

Across the Bay, suspended in 18 cubic metres of water, Gwen Cooper was contemplating what would kill her first: the water or the rage at the Clan of masquerading aliens. She silently hoped she could survive the water long enough to kill at least one of those impostors… Now she was treading water with her arm around Ianto's unconscious body, making mental note after mental note to personally kill Jack Harkness at least a hundred times for what he was putting them through.

With an ominous _glugging _sound the water level rose again and she clutched the side of the canister with her free hand to remain above water. The painful knot in her stomach tightened when she realised that there was only one foot of space above them, one foot of air, one more foot until…


	3. Division

**A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and read - you're all stars!**

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"One more foot Captain Jack Harkness!" Erin bellowed dangerously, "If you so much as _think about _leaving this Hub - I'll personally kill you. A hundred times."

"Sounds like a threat," Jack muttered darkly, much too exhausted to play along with Erin's jokes. She was fun, a grateful breath of fresh air for Torchwood, but it was times like these that Jack needed quietness and a considerate hand of comfort. He froze in his tracks, spun dramatically on one foot and glared meaningfully at Erin before stalking back to his office, "happy now?"

"Tremendously," she waggled her finger pretentiously at him, chuckling happily to herself as she refocused her gaze on the flickering computer display on her desk.

"Where have the others gone?" Jack glowered at her back. He was skulking like a resentful teenager and, for all the shame it made him feel, he couldn't help but feel that way towards her. He wasn't entirely sure what she had done to upset him in such an immediate way, it almost felt that, not too long ago, they had been arguing and shouting - like enemies, the defender of earth versus the invading alien threat… But that was an odd thought - strange - stupid - impossible! He banished it quickly from his mind, adding a slap to his forehead for emphasis. No, in the two years that he'd known Erin she'd been nothing but compassionate and sweet; his more prolific heart, the bearer of his soul.

"Bethan's still outraged about that message - she went to the police station to check it out. And the guys… well, now I come to think about it, I don't know where the guys have gone."

"Raise them on comms?" Jack suggested shortly, fighting a valiant but useless battle to keep the biting sarcasm from his voice.

"Can't," she politely ignored his tone, pointing towards two discarded headsets on the desk beside her.

"Idiots," Jack growled, "I'm sure I must've been drunk or something when I hired you lot. Brainwashed, more like…"

"Er - who'd ever be smart enough to brainwash you?" Her voice caught in her throat, as if it pained her to speak those words.

Jack, slightly smug at the idea of her worrying about the state of his brain, let a smile wash briefly over his face, "Only the best. It'd take a real genius, someone hard working and persistent, someone so dashing and sweet that I'd never suspect them. Someone so good at lying that I'd trust them with my life - figuratively of course. Someone I'd tell all my secrets to. Someone I'd… love. And trust me, that ain't easy. Brainwashing me ain't easy." He jabbed a thumb proudly at his chest, momentarily grateful that he had someone to boast to. Torchwood wasn't the same without his swollen ego - a favourite saying of Bethan's.

"No," Erin sighed dreamily, cutting across his smug monologue with a knowing smile, almost as if he had given her some great word of comfort. "How, technically, would someone brainwash you anyway?"

"Hmm… Don't know if I should tell you - wouldn't want you getting any ideas… Well, someone, theoretically, would have to possibly assimilate the lives, faces, voices, emotions of someone I trusted, someone close to me - you lot, for instance."

"And then?"

"Well, it's quite simple really. They'd have to get you out of the picture, somewhere you couldn't reach me, maybe even write you off totally."

"Kill us, you mean?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Sounds fail proof."

The room heaved with Jack's inflating ego, "Oh, I don't know about that. I know my team pretty well - I like to think I'd be able to tell if I was being lied to."

"Getting any vibes?"

"Nope. Rather empty on the vibe-front, _although _the strange couple under the Bay are setting me on edge."

Erin visibly wilted: Jack sympathised, it was all he'd spoken about since getting the transmission earlier that morning. Although, in his defence, it wasn't an everyday occurrence that someone managed to hack into Torchwood under such odd circumstances.

"I'd like to find out more about this Gwen girl," Jack explained, pushing the chair with his legs so that he shot towards the board where he'd previously written on. "Let's collaborate - pull up the police files Bethan stored on the database."

Erin looked hesitant, but crossed slowly to the nearest computer, typing rapidly into the search bar until she and Jack were faced with a magnitude of lists, throbbing with names that moved up and down the lists like a pulsating caterpillar.

"Type in her name."

Again, Erin went strangely pale, but obeyed until the list had been narrowed down to a few thousand names, each one flickering on the screen impatiently.

"Dang you Welsh with your names," Jack mumbled, "okay, cross check that list with a screenshot of her from the VT."

"Jack - are you sure we should be doing this?"

"Y'know, I get the sinking feeling that my team needs a serious work ethic transplant. What's the matter with you guys lately? Ever since last night, you've been acting odd."

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with us. It's just that… I think this should be left to the police and-"

"Yeah," Jack drew the word out slowly and stared up at Erin in confusion, "I thought you said Bethan was talking to the police?"

A strange expression melted over Erin's face - it was almost as if he'd caught her red handed in the midst of a great theft. It worried him in a way he hadn't expected, and faint distrust crept forwards in the back of his mind - signalling that something was wrong and, inexplicably, that everything was linked to the drowning girl named Gwen.

Erin was quick to recover, "she is. Don't worry about it. She's dealing with everything."

"There's something you guys aren't telling me," Jack said the words gently, unsure of how he could make sense of everything.

"There's nothing."

"There's _something._ Cross check her name with her picture, use the police database."

Erin swallowed slowly, "shouldn't we wait until the others come back?"

"Why?" Jack's confusion deepened; nerves set in. What could be so bad that they would all be lying to him. "There's no need - do it now."

"Seriously Jack-"

"Seriously! I'll do it myself." It was a simple enough procedure, one he'd seen Bethan doing a thousand times, so why was Erin struggling so much? He pulled up the VT again, dragged the cursor over a picture of the girl mid-cough and clicked 'cross reference with database'. Flashing a searing glare at Erin, he leaned back and waited for the computer to sieve through the information, until at long last one name remained on the blue screen. Jack stared, mind struck, at her full name, date of birth, home address, blood type as he realised, with a cold jolt in his chest, what he was looking at: a Torchwood employee medical file.

"What the hell…" He breathed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Technical glitch," Erin laughed uneasily.

He wasn't listening: a picture demanded his entire concentration, one of the couple currently submerged in water - one of them both standing either side of Jack, laughing and hugging him. Another - this time of the three of them with another pair, joking and posing for the camera.

"Out of my way Erin," he growled angrily, feeling his thirst for adventure fire up again.

"Where are you going?" Erin's mouth hung open as she stared after him, making for the Cog door exit.

"I'm fed up of being the only one left out of the joke - it's about time I found out the punch line…" Truthfully, he wasn't exactly sure where he was going - it only made sense to escape the tense atmosphere of lies and confusion.

As the salty air of the Bay hit him he reeled from the sickness of distrust. Somehow, although it made little sense, the key to all of this insanity was the girl named Gwen and her partner. A million questions fizzled through Jack's mind as he set off across the Plass, grumbling under his breath. Who, really, was Gwen Cooper? Why did the database recognise her as a Torchwood employee when no one had ever heard of her? How on earth could those pictures exist?

He froze when he reached Mermaid Quay, unsure of where he was headed. To go back to the Hub whilst he was flooded with this confusion was unthinkable. Suddenly, as if in response to his thoughts about the girl called Gwen, he remembered reading something on the file: 'former employee of the South Wales Constabulary.'

And, all of a sudden, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Erin - Bethan - his entire lying team - they meant nothing… The only truth he could hold onto was that somewhere in the murky water, a girl named Gwen was trapped, was dying, had called for him, needed him. It felt only natural that he should help, rescue her, the eternal dashing hero - and the answer apparently lay close by at the police station.

Meanwhile, merely thirty feet away, the girl called Gwen was exhausted to the bone, and was struggling to remember why she shouldn't give in to the cold embrace of the water. It made almost no sense to continue pumping her legs, eating away at her diminished energy stores, in the dim and childish hope that someone would come and save her. Her mind was half-lost to the frozen inevitability that, as soon as she lost consciousness, both she and Ianto would have lost all hope. No one was coming - there was no eternal dashing hero to save his somnolent team. The girl called Gwen gulped in a hasty breath of sparse air, followed by an inrush of bitter water - her eyes stung - her throat hurt - her mind burnt with a decreasing will for survival. Yet faintly, none of it seemed to matter - not the creeping icy water, not the tiredness and mortal exhaustion taking hold over her body, not the realisation that Ianto was getting heavier by the second, not the excruciating sense of loss and rejection that Jack had allowed this to happen - it was all a foggy joke…

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**A/N: I hope you like where this is going. Let me know what you think [=**

**Remember, reviews = happy fan fic writer = more chapters !**


	4. Black Holes and Revelations

**Again, you wonderful readers and your reviews make this easier and more interesting to write... Hopefully this chapter will clear up a few questions you might be wondering about. =]**

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"Oh ha-ha," the clipped Welsh tones floated from beyond the cellar door, to where Robert stood grinning smugly at the lock he'd just clicked. "Funny joke," Gavin continued dryly, waving his torch around aimlessly, as if he could centre the beam on his team mate who stood behind the iron door of the warehouse on George Street, the one Jack had been nagging at them for weeks to tackle, the one Bethan had sworn was writing with Weevils. _Nice move Beth, _Robert scoffed, _not a Weevil in sight._

"Yeah, you're right," Robert called mockingly down to Gavin, who was tutting his tongue in his typical tea-boy style, "it is a funny joke. Hey, y'know, while we're here, we might as well _pretend _to be doing something worthwhile."

From the out-of-sight cellar, Robert could imagine Gavin rolling his eyes as he replied, "I don't think I like what you're suggesting…"

"Oh, not while we're on duty," Robert laughed back: he too was capable of Jack's sense of humour. Double entendres weren't _just_ reserved for the ambiguous Captain. "Anyways, get on with it. Butter up for your precious Captain. Pretend you're in a black hole or something."

"Black hole?" Gavin repeated incredulously, scoffing a little and raising his eyebrows at the closed door, "I'm not playing along with your games. Just unlock the door, will you? There's no need for us to 'practise technique' anyway. Who's likely to attack us?"

Robert acknowledged the rhetorical question with an encouraging whoop, "Yeah, it's not as if we're exactly open to attack…"

"Robert…" Gavin's voice was smaller now, timid and held back, "D'you ever think that, maybe, we shouldn't be doing this?"

"What? Hanging about in an old warehouse? Messing about in the cellar? Skiving off work?"

"No-oo, I mean… _this._"

"Oh. Right."

"I mean, it was all a bit of fun, seeing whether or not it was possible to infiltrate Torchwood and everything. It was just a joke. And easier than we thought. That Captain really ought to stop letting his guard down to any cute Welsh guy who offers him a drink. And he _really _should've noticed when I started slipping things in his drink. So, I guess you can't blame him for the Rohypnol, classic Earth drug and everything, but the Capron Seven - the _Capron Seven! _- a modified blend of their own precious Retcon! And then, when Bethan appeared, extracting his memories from his unconscious mind in that alley-way, ripping from his soul the thoughts and emotions that perfectly prepared us to assimilate his _brilliant _team mates. Ok, so I guess we couldn't have predicted that two of them would die before we got to them, but it didn't matter - we manipulated his memory so it didn't matter! Robert, he made it too easy for us…"

"And?" Robert leaned against the cold metal door, eyes closing slightly. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"

"No! Of course not. Just… where was the fun in it all? What's the fun in deleting the memories of a washed-up Time Agent, then carting his human pets off underwater? I thought we were in it for the thrill, Robert, the thrill! Back home, so far, far away, we promised, the four of us, that it'd be our greatest con yet."

"And it will, trust me mate, the fun hasn't started yet."

"Oh yeah? Well, what about that message? The VT at the Hub?"

"I told you Gavin, Bethan's dealing with it. She's scanned the computer and she's going to sift for any mention of those two hapless fools - then delete it all. The VT - she's already deleted that, and she's working on another dose of Capron Seven before Captain Clueless starts remembering details."

"And what about the guys in the Bay?"

"They'll never escape from that canister. Deadlock seal - locked from the outside. Trust me, Torchwood is ours."

"Yeah? Then why are we off running errands for the Captain?"

"_Because,"_ Robert slid down to the floor, yawning slightly, "we have to keep up appearances. He already suspects us as it is, we don't need to give him more reasons not to trust us. No, how 'bout we get on with some real work?" Tired of Gavin's doubts, he unlocked cellar door and backed up towards the main sector of the warehouse.

Gavin, hurriedly climbing the steps two at a time, called to him, "There's no Weevils here. You know Bethan only said that to keep old Captain quiet. What're we going to do here?"

"Unless you fancy modifying his mind again… There is _one _thing we can do…" He eyed his friend playfully, with the kind of glint in his eyes that hardly ever surfaced. It was the glint of adventure, the glint of trouble, the same glint of mischievousness that he'd had since he'd joined ranks with Gavin, Bethan and Erin as a ten year old, all those centuries ago, all those galaxies away.

Gavin's face lit up in a bright grin, matching the sparkle in Robert's eyes. "Oh! The Life-form Summoning Device! Is that the same one Bethan plucked from the cold hands of that pathetic Torchwood girl before we locked her in the canister?"

"The exact same. And look, the poor dear practically left us the instruction manual after we screened her mind."

"Maybe we should've wiped their memories too?"

"Don't start Gavin! How was I supposed to know they'd survive the night? I didn't expect them to survive this long - never mind send that video transmission!"

"Sorry…" His voice was worn… Their entire team mentality was becoming worn, their friendship tested after so many years on the run side-by-side, outlaws together, headed for the high hills and the greenery of Earth, pretty young Earth, and that strange place called _Caerdydd_. "Rob, just get on with it."

Robert tutted his tongue distastefully. "Who'd have thought it Gavin? Me and you, the brightest boys at the Academy, stuck on Earth, capturing vermin for an ex-Time Agent?"

"Yeah… Could've been worse I suppose. They could've had us working for UNIT."

As the two of them laughed whilst they worked, prodding buttons on the glossy-screen of the machinery, typing in the data that would easily transport a Weevil from the depths of the sewerage system to their current location - they were silently unaware that, with each second they chortled over their plans, Jack stepped closer and closer to his old life.

And again, across the Bay, Gwen was dizzy with hunger. She was dizzy with exhaustion, dizzy with the cold, dizzy with fear, dizzy with each weak flutter of her heart that lazily pushed icy blood through her frosty veins. How long had they been locked inside? Two days, three? An eternity? A lifetime, trapped in a claustrophobic metal tube with her half-alive colleague, a million years away from the leering gang who'd locked them down there…

Who the hell were they, anyway?

And where the hell was Jack?

Her aching eyes were drooping closed and she knew, she just knew, that she'd never be able to open them again. It was hurting, ah God the crushing weight of the water was agonising, and the haunting sound of the _glugging _Bay surrounding them was enough to drive her crazy. She was tired, oh so very tired, and she didn't care what would happen after she closed her eyes… She didn't care that Ianto would drop, she didn't care that she would sink alongside him, she didn't care about Torchwood, about aliens and defending the Earth. She was human, only human, and she couldn't muster the energy to be anything _but _human as she gasped and spluttered and choked in the water that would soon become her icy death gown.

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**A/N: So, whatcha think? Let me know via reviews, and I'll be happy to attempt to answer any more questions you guys might have lurking in your minds (:**

**Chapter Five should be up soon, but I've been having a few problems with the internet connections soo...**


	5. One last tender lie

**Well, here we have it: chapter five. It's not as long as some of the others, but I hope you like it just the same ='D**

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Jack took one last deep breath as he fished the dregs of his coffee from the murky bottom of the takeaway carton, before tossing it carelessly into the nearest litter bin. He was tired, mentally exhausted with all the lies and mistrust that swam chaotically through his body to the foggy swamp that was his mind. His entire team, his entire life - lying!

He'd been stationary for an hour and a half now, brooding around Mermaid Quay, alternating between slouching along the road or sitting on the rails, staring absently at the clock tower, thinking, something he often preferred to leave to his oh-so-wonderful team.

He had that odd, familiar sinking feeling that things were getting steadily worse - and that he had no idea how to stop this dreadful decay of the situation, for the simple reason that he was still missing most of the crucial facts. Yes, he knew his team had been lying, for God only knew how long. No, he didn't know why.

His mobile phone buzzed annoyingly in his pocket and, upon peering cautiously, he saw Bethan's name flashing irritatingly, as if a constant reminder of his current situation. Aggravated and downright angry, he answered it with a non-committal grunt.

"Hi, what's up with you?" Bethan's cheery voice greeted him, bubbly and welcoming as always, without any hint that she knew of what had transpired in the Hub.

"Why don't you tell me?"

Frightened by the tone of his voice, all brightness melted from her voice as she gently said, "Jack, a-are you ok?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine, you know me. But the question is, Beth - do I know you?"

"What're you talking about?" It was plain to hear, from the sound of her shaky breath against the phone, that he had worried her. It wasn't a pleasing sound, hearing one whom he had trusted and had liked go through such uncertain fear, but he was determined not to back down.

"Your little charade is over Bethan. The game is up; the joke's on me, whatever you guys are calling it."

"I don't know what you're talking about Jack. Why-"

"Oh, of course you don't." He grimaced: he hadn't actually meant for that to be as scathing as it was. He imagined poor Bethan cringing under his words, her little glasses askew, her face crumpled with hurt and incomprehension.

"But Jack…"

He laughed dryly: it was _so _like her to play dumb. "I'm guessing this master plan, whatever it was, wasn't entirely your idea. I'm guessing Robert goaded you into it, Erin promised it'd be all right, Gavin reassured you that nothing could go wrong. Am I getting warmer?"

"Um…"

"I'll take that as a yes. Just tell me Beth - why?"

"Why what? Listen Jack, you've got this all wrong."

"Wrong?" His voice rose dramatically, and a young mother by the railings glared at him before gathering her children away. "Well why don't you tell me what's right? Huh?"

"I don't-"

"Oh spare me that act. Beth, I liked you, ok, you were such a sweet member of my team, so independent and smart, so I can't begin to understand why you'd go along with whatever plan the others cooked up. So, do me the decency of explaining what I don't know about the guys locked in that container."

"Oh Jack, don't you see? It's worse than that…" Her voice was quite now, hard to hear, and desperately sweet, almost mawkish as he imagined her smiling warmly at him, blossoming beneath the rays of the compliments he'd just given her. He winced at the bitterness of betrayal, and wished, not for the first time that day, that he'd never suspected a thing. It would have made the whole thing easier, and it was breaking his heart to crush Bethan like that.

"Tell me how it's worse Beth." For her sake, he softened his rough voice, forced a sympathetic emotion into his words that he hadn't realised he possessed.

"I can't. I'm not allowed. It's Robert, don't you see? Everything's down to Robert, it was all his idea. B-but the lies go deeper. It's not just about the couple in the Bay, it's about the whole façade of the Torchwood that you know."

His mind jarred, "Wait, 'that I know'? What other kind of Torchwood is there?"

"Oh, Jack, I can't tell you! I want so much for this to be over, I never wanted it to go this far. It was a joke, that's all, a silly little game of Robert's, but it suddenly went too far for us to back out."

"Have you guys been messing with the archives?" Although, the panic in her voice was screaming at him that it was something much, much worse.

She laughed dryly, his tension soared. "The archives… They're pretty much fine, could do with a bit of an update… No Jack, it goes deeper, through and through they've deceived you - _I've _deceived you. And put them at risk."

"Put who at risk?" He demanded loudly, finally feeling that he was getting somewhere.

Bethan however seemed not to have heard him. "It's all down to Robert, he came up with the whole thing, said it would be nice for us to go out with a bang - Torchwood, that's the biggie! He _promised _that it'd be fine. He said, when it was all over, we'd go somewhere, somewhere warm and quiet and buy that house we've always wanted, just me and him. He said all I had to do was get them started, cover their tracks, plant a few false records here and there. He never mentioned abduction and… Ah, God, Jack!"

"Abduction?" He repeated dully.

"You should've seen their faces! All cold and blue and pale, so typical and painful to watch. They put up a struggle, oh they're strong - I'll give you credit, but Robert had a g-gun and they were so scared. I thought the guy was going to get the upper hand, 'til Robert punched the girl in the face. And then suddenly it all got worse, everything went downhill, and still Robert won't give up."

"Bethan, please, I still don't understand."

"Gwen Cooper - does she mean anything to you?" Her frantic voice seeped down the line, firing his synapses with suspicion and the thrill of adventure that made this job bearable.

His mind bubbled furiously, but that name did not summon any memories or emotions. "No," he replied flatly, "should she?"

"Oh, who the hell knows anymore Jack? Ianto Jones, the pretty guy, such a brave man, not so brave when Gavin held a gun to his head, was he?"

"Beth, I'm getting more and more confused. Just explain…"

"If only it was that easy… Jack, if you knew the truth… I can only give you a little nudge. The police station? You should try there."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Ask for Andy. No doubt he's been expecting you."

Yet another name that meant nothing to Jack, but he nodded hastily. "And Beth? What're you going to do?"

"I'm going to try and fix this mess; absolve everything that went wrong. And I hope, when the game plays out, that you'll forgive me in the end, and know that everything I did was out of love for my family. Robert promised, you see, and if I hadn't have done it then we'd have nowhere to live… That's the thing about outlaws: you're willing to try anything."

"Ok Bethan," he imagined her furtive brown eyes darting around the Hub, "And I hope that, when the game plays out, what you've done is forgivable. You always were my favourite. The others were so brash and cold, but you get this whole thing. You're… you. You're perfect and intelligent and, while it lasted, you were mine. In case I never say it again, you did good."

"I knew you'd say that," was her whispered answer, "Echoes of before are starting to seep through. It's only a matter of time until it all comes flooding back. And when it does, please tell them I'm sorry. Tell Gwen and Ianto that I'm sorry."

"Gwen and Ianto," Jack repeated, "right, I'll try and remember. You take care, Beth, I mean it. Run hard and fast from those monsters you call friends."

"Thanks." And with the briefest of 'clicks' she ended the call and was lost from his life forever.

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**I wanted to make this chapter sorta sad, and I hope that came through in the writing. As always, I have cookies for my luverly readers and reviewers =).**

**I should probably warn that character deaths'll be coming up soon. So, yeah, forgive me when I write that chapter.**

**Peace out!**


	6. Running in circles

**Hey guys, sorry it took so long, the internet connection is pretty dodgy =/ So, here we have it, let me know what you think...**

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Jack's mind was a whirlpool of worry and a biting desire to _run, _a deep-rooted instinctive urge to run without hesitation and without stopping until he reached Ianto Jones and Gwen Cooper. An instinct to protect, to comfort and to _touch _the team he'd been denied for so long. Bethan's words had been clear enough: Gwen and Ianto were his, should be his, and yet weren't because of something those liars had done. Jack's boiling anger was completely justified, he ran the events over and over in his head, and felt an increasing need to scream aloud his frustration.

He could only guess they'd wiped his memory - it made sense - it was, after all, exactly what he'd do in the circumstances. As far as he knew, the only thing that could trip the amnesia was a familiar sight, but if that was the case why had the VT not done the trick?

_No - no! - no… _He clenched his fists by his sides as he marched darkly by the Water Tower, trying not to imagine the look on Bethan's face as she watched him on the CCTV, and up onto Bute Street. None of it mattered - the lies, the amnesia, none of it - nothing mattered except the terrifying knowledge that two people whom he had loved, whether he remembered it or not, were dying, alone and in pain, because of Jack.

Scarcely recognising the roads beneath his feet, Jack allowed his instincts to drive him ruthlessly towards his one hope of information, all the while mumbling darkly under his breath, fighting back tears as horrific images circled around his numb head.

_A cold metal canister, unearthed by the old docks, buoyant with water. Police officers cracking the lid open, Jack watching on in silence, as two officers recoil in horror. Panicked, Jack steps forward, hands outstretched to reach into the canister. His shaking fingers connect with something still and icy and sticky - and he howls in misery. His enraged tears fall into the water as he hoists the two bodies into his jolting arms, cradling them, rocking them, crying. Their eyes are welded shut by the water - they could be asleep, yet the dullness of their skin, the stiffness of their arms as Jack grasps their hands, tell him otherwise. _They're dead, _he cries into the black night, _because of me.

The clock on the wall told him it was five in the afternoon, end of the day shift, which explained why nameless, faceless police officers swam around him in the waiting room, calling out to each other, milling around him to form a blockade of useless words that kept him - still! - from finding his team.

While he gradually fought the urge to break down, one uniform-clad officer paused at his side, clipboard at the ready, and stuck his hand out to Jack. Confused, Jack shook the hand.

"I'm Andy," the officer said, his Welsh voice taught and nervous as he faced Jack, "you came in asking about me?"

"Yeah, I did."

Andy laughed, whirling about and gesturing for Jack to follow him as he lead the way down a brightly-lit corridor, "I must say, I find it really weird that you don't remember me. You've been… _drugged, _you say?"

"Yes, memory-loss, but I'm hoping you can help me with that." Jack was unsure of how to broach the topic with this strange outsider, one he did not trust. "Am I right in thinking you know about… Torchwood?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"And did I tell you?"

"No chance! Wow, they really took your memory didn't they? Where's Scully?"

"Er - who?" Jack's confusion erupted ten-fold in his mind, and sank into one of the chairs that lined the corridor.

"God, that must've been some strong stuff they used on you," Andy frowned and took the next chair along, "I mean Gwen, where's Gwen?"

"Gwen!" Jack stood up, his eyes flashing with excitement as he stared down at a bewildered Andy, "you know Gwen?"

"Of course I do," Andy too stood up, and gave Jack a pitiful look before speaking in simple tones, as if he were explaining nuclear physics to a toddler, "I know Gwen. She used to work here. Before she went to work with you. At Torchwood. With the rest of your guys. That is, until a few days ago - I haven't heard anything from her in a few days."

"So… Gwen works with me. We're… friends?"

"That's it," Andy gave him a mawkish smile and patted him on the arm, "but don't forget the other guy. Never caught his name, think it was something-"

"Ianto," Jack interrupted blankly, "Ianto Jones. He came to work for me from Torchwood One, back in London. We caught the pterodactyl together a few years back, she lives in the Hub now, and we feed her pizza and let her fly around Cardiff on Halloween as a stunt. Tosh said it was… Tosh… Tosh a-a-and Owen - they - oh, they _died! _And that was my fault - and now Gwen's going to die too - Gwen, I remember Gwen, I love Gwen - of course I remember now! How could I have been so _stupid, _how? I love Gwen - I love Ianto - and now…"

Andy was staring at him as if Jack had suddenly started sprouting nuclear physics back at him. He blinked and nodded slowly, patting Jack on the arm again. "That doesn't sound like memory loss at all, are you sure this isn't some sort of joke?"

With a painful clenching of guilt in his stomach, Jack's face melted into anger and a grit sense of purpose, "no joke. Andy, listen, the police must have procedure for this sort of thing. I've been out of the loop, I don't know what equipment they've got down there with them, but I need to track them. What do the police use to track people?"

"Tracking?" Andy gawped, "Erm, mobile phones, I guess. PDAs, that sort of thing. Pagers… anything that would give off a GPS signal."

Jack's eyes widened, "What about communication headsets? Could you use those? Say, if I had one end and if - if I'm really lucky, and if those idiots messed up again - Gwen and Ianto had at least one other down there, could you track it?"

"Well, I mean, theoretically we could - well not _me _but someone here - but, really, Jack, that's just-"

"Do it."

"No way. You can't just _borrow _government property like that. Especially considering you won't tell us why. Torchwood is separate from the government - isn't that what you guys always say?"

"Do it. You have to. Torchwood is in danger - my friends are in danger - Gwen is in danger!"

"Look Jack, you can't say something like that and just expect me to go along with it, you-"

"- Have no other choice! Listen, they're trapped, underwater, with no way out, and-"

"Honestly Jack," Andy was laughing now, an infuriating look of disbelief had crept into his weary features, "I don't know how you expect me to believe that. Either you think I'm stupid or you've had a few too many pints - either way, go home, and if you're still getting these weird urges in the morning, _then _I'll look into it."

"Listen to me!" Jack had the sinking feeling that he had lost his only lead. Sighing, he remembered something. "There was a video. Patched through to the Hub - but I can't go back there."

"Oh," Andy's face was still full of derision, "well then it's a shame Torchwood has such high security, isn't it? Otherwise we could've hacked in and seen this so-called evidence for ourselves."

Frowning, Jack continued down the corridor towards the empty boardroom and seated himself at a nearby desk. Partially aware of Andy's frowning presence by his side, Jack hurriedly began to type rapidly on the keyboard, watching the screen whirl and dance in response. Reaching back into the archives of received files, he floated the mouse over an IP address he recognised: _Torchwood. _Entering into the folder, he half expected it to be empty, yet his heart surged with excitement upon seeing the sole file there. It was a short video, complete with sound bytes, and opened responsively under a double click of the mouse. Passing the bulky headphones across to Andy, Jack waited in anticipation as the police officer witnessed his friend and ex-colleague gurgling and struggling in the water.

"My god…" Andy exclaimed, playing the video again without meeting Jack's blazing eyes. Jack leaned in closer, noticing an odd collection of numbers running along the length of the video screen, as if part of the clip, yet it seemed as if they had been hastily added on top of the picture by someone in a desperate hurry. Dimly, Jack wondered why he'd never noticed them, but perhaps they hadn't been there before…

Jack nodded in satisfaction, hardly able to watch the footage again - now that he _knew, _truly knew and understood the emotion he felt for those two. It was similar to watching some corporeal representation of his soul drown - it was similar to the way in which his heart had cried when he'd captured Gray.

_Thank you Bethan, _he sighed, _I forgive you._

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**R&R? As usual, cookies for my lovely readers/reviews, for letting me know what you think. :)**

**Ooh, character death(s) will be coming up pretty soonish. Just a warning =O**


	7. Tears and rain

**Okay, here goes, it's getting closer to the end now. I kinda like this chapter, but it almost made me cry writing it. I guess you'll see why.**

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Jack's strides were twice as big as Andy's, the police officer was jogging by his side to keep up, shouting out directions at sporadic intervals from the GPS tracking system in his hand, whilst the two of them strode across the Barrage.

"Jack!" Andy shouted, jerking to a halt and gazing across the Bay, "it's here - right here - maybe thirty or forty metres out."

"Right," Jack nodded grimly, staring directly in front of him as if his desperation could burn through the water and bring the canister bobbing to the surface. "I'll swim if I have to." He nodded once to Andy, and began to tear through the layers of his clothing, laying the greatcoat respectfully on the cleanest square metre of pavement he could find. Somehow, he felt that the coat signified this whole ordeal: he'd been wrapped in it when he'd woken up that first day. It was painful to imagine Robert and Erin drugging him whilst Gavin and Bethan locked his friends away - it hurt to imagine Erin tenderly wrapping him in the RAF coat in his office while he was unconscious.

"No," Andy flung out an arm to push Jack away from the water, "no you won't."

"Well," Jack's voice was deep with annoyance, "how else do you suggest we get to them? Did _you _bring a boat?"

"No," Andy sighed patiently, removing his arm once he was certain Jack had given up on the idea of swimming, "but my uncle's in the Cardiff Bay Yacht club - look, over there - that's his boat. The red hull and green sails - the one with the dragon painted on the side."

"Oh, you're going to launch a rescue mission in your uncle's boat… '_Y Draig Goch'_?" If the situation hadn't been so desperate, Jack might have laughed, but instead he waved Andy away with the dull knowledge that it would take him at least an hour to reach and untie the yacht. Jack, despite Andy's warnings, was unable to sit and wait for an hour, staring into the murky water where his friends lay dying.

He knelt to the ground beside his greatcoat, letting his fingers drop into the water, making teasing patterns. He watched half-heartedly as Andy jogged across the Barrage, his breath coming out in sharp bursts of vapour on the cold evening air. Beyond Andy's blurred figure was the stretching shape of the Water Tower, where Jack could imagine the confrontation Bethan and Erin were having with Robert and Gavin as they returned from the Weevil hunt.

As if to spite his hopeless temperament, slick icicles of rain began to spatter onto him, hesitant at first, but then angry and merciless in true Cardiff fashion. Salty tears joined the mocking rain on Jack's cheeks as he sobbed out his misery and sharp sense of loss.

Jack scoffed and turned his eyes once more on Andy, who had almost reached the Norwegian Church and was using his reflective police jacket as a makeshift umbrella. Sighing, Jack figured that, since he was already wet, it hardly mattered if he got into the water now.

Removing his boots and slipping the communications device from his pocket, Jack stepped into the freezing water, and gasped as he felt tiny daggers stabbing into him, rising past his knees, reaching up to his waist, fighting to kiss his chin. Instantly cold, and feeling the beginnings of the tiredness that comes with incredibly low temperatures, Jack began to shiver and fought the urge to clamber back from the water. This was for Gwen and Ianto - whatever pain he was feeling, they'd been feeling for three days.

That thought alone was enough to send him kicking further out from the edge. As he plunged deeper into the frozen water, his mind began to twist into a foggy cloud of confusion and dumbness. Like, why was he even bothering to hold his breath when he darted under the water - or was it just another habit of mortality that Cardiff had pressed upon him? His hands floundered around under the water uselessly, colliding with nothing, desperately reaching out for the tinny feel of metal and instead brushing against darting fish and tangled weeds.

He dived below, forcing his eyes open, blinking past the muddy freshwater and hastily shoving aside growing weeds in the faint hope that he might catch sight of the silver glare of the canister. He'd never felt as human as when he desperately searched for his friends, rent with terror and a thousand memories of them.

_At first he'd tried to ignore Ianto - force the young man to think Jack didn't want him on the team - and yet it was all just a ruse, an attempt to protect him from the horrors of this world, until Jack had realised that Ianto already _was _hurt by Torchwood… He'd hired Gwen because of Suzie, because Suzie had dragged her into their world and left a hole in Torchwood that Gwen was willing to fill. Yet it was more than that, holes littered Jack all over, and Gwen was _there,_ reachable and ready to fill every gap his life possessed… They're been there, always, to fix his mess, to lighten his mood, to hold him back when he would go too far. Ianto's coffee was a remedy for all ills; Gwen's kiss had _literally _breathed life into him. They were magic, the two of them, literal miracles, earth-bound angels the likes of which Jack had once encountered thousands of years from now. They were by his side, regardless of whatever happened. Regardless of how broken and lost Ianto felt, regardless of how responsible for her marriage Gwen felt. And, now, what had he done?_

In the dimness, in the foggy half-light of the sunset, Jack's frantic fingers grappled against something crisp and unexpected, something lodged between a collection of weeds, gently swaying in the waves created by Jack's swimming. A metal canister, hardly three feet wide and eight feet high, held up by the tangling reeds and Jack's murky hands that clutched it as if it were his only lifeline. Ecstatic, he heaved it upwards, only to receive a dull ache in his shoulder.

"Damn," he burbled into the water, feeling it rush into his lungs. Soaring back to the surface, he scanned for Andy, and found him chuttering towards where Jack was suspended, sitting proudly atop _'Y Draig Goch'. _

"What're you doing?" Andy demanded angrily, drawing to a halt close to Jack.

"What does it look like? Now, I need something to lift it out of the water with - I don't suppose you brought some sort of leverage - or a rope or anchor or something?"

Andy dug around in the depths of the small boat and resurface with a beaming grin that reinstated Jack's hope. Clutched in his shivering hands, Andy held up what resembled a small fishing net.

"Where the hell did you find that?" Jack roared in triumph, feeling guilty for all the times he'd ever dismissed Gwen's old friend.

"In one of the other boats, just lying around. It's not exactly stealing - only borrowing, I'll give it back. This is police business after all. Sort of." He tossed the net towards Jack, who plunged under water to hook it around the submerged canister. As if in comfort, he tapped the metal three times, daring to hope that at least one of them was conscious enough to hear him. He kicked to the surface again and instructed Andy to tow the canister back to the Barrage.

"What're we going to do if… y'know, if-"

"Just don't think about it," Jack ordered, climbing into the boat beside him, "there's still hope. They're strong, they'll be fine."

"But Jack, they've been in there for three days. Without food or warmth or sleep. Unless they did fall asleep, in which case-"

"No," Jack refused to hear it, "I said don't think about it. Just get the boat back to the Barrage."

Jack, in his desperation, was the first to clamber from the boat and onto the grass. Dismissing the unsettling feeling of being on dry land, he hurried to grasp the net in his hands and pull it onto the Barrage. Straining, he shouted for Andy's assistance. Even then, with the two of them groaning as they heaved, the canister wasn't moving quick enough for Jack's panicked mind. He pulled without pausing, feeling the net cut through his rough skin, snake around his fingers and sink into the palms of his hands. He felt the warm blood collect in his hands, but he refused to stop until he had the canister secured on the grassy bank.

"How're we going to open it?" Andy panted with exertion, falling to the ground beside the canister. Jack tried to ignore the pain in his stomach and the realisation that the canister was emitting no sounds except for the echoing sloshing of water. No cries for help, no gasping breath, no sounds of distress or relief. No signs of life.

Jack roared in anger as he plucked uselessly at the deadlock seal on what he supposed was the 'top' of the canister. It had a square consisting of sixteen buttons, each with tiny silver numbers engraved into it, which Jack supposed had to be pressed in some sort of code.

Glaring in the direction of the impostors who had done this, Jack felt an extreme rush of hatred. The water tower shone mockingly, as if it was knowingly harbouring the four of them beneath it in the Hub that had once been Jack's. The Hub in which, only this morning, Jack had sat in with Erin, comfortable and peaceful, whilst they tried to solve the mysterious video transmission.

The video… Jack's mind seemed to seethe with hidden meaning as he searched through his brain, anxious to connect the video to something relatively helpful. He remembered sitting in the police station with Andy, watching the clip over again… He remembered noticing a strange sequence of numbers that appeared to have been patched on top of the video by someone in a hurry. Someone who knew they were in danger of being discovered. Someone who regretted their mistake, someone who wanted to help fix things, someone Jack knew he could trust: Bethan!

Recalling that he had felt the numbers must have been a code, Jack poised his fingers above the small square on the canister, racking his brain to pull the numbers to the surface. _7-1-0-8-3... _What had been next? A six, or a nine? Frantically, Jack punched the '6' button and continued with the sequence, thanking his Time Agency training that had taught him to remember long-digit numbers.

Andy began to pull at a handle on the top of the canister, the skin around his knuckles turning white with pressure as the man strove to tear the lid off. At last Jack heard the grateful 'click' of acceptance by the mechanism and the lid gave way to Andy's efforts, sending him tumbling onto the grass.

Seized by a desperate impatience, Jack clambered around to the open canister and peered inside, pushing the flowing water out with his hands. In the darkness, he could just make out the shadowy shapes of two bodies, woven together, unmoving and utterly silent.

"No, no, no," he moaned as his hands acted of their own accord, grasping hold of anything in reach and pulling the two of them free.

The joy and relief that he had expected to feel was swollen up by a wretched sense of fear -_ why weren't they breathing? _Jack pressed on their chests, tucked their clinging hair away from their faces, tipped their gaunt heads back to open their airways. Horrifically torn between the two of them, Jack shouted for Andy and began attempting to resuscitate Ianto.

"Oh my god," Andy gasped, laying Gwen out flat and leaning over her, pumping on her chest and breathing down her throat. "God Jack, she's not breathing!"

In his arms, Ianto felt lighter than air and twice as elusive as Jack pumped and breathed for him, his heart leaping in panic.

"Jack…" Andy's voice was strained.

"Don't say it."

"Jack, really… I think - I think she's-"

"I _said _don't!"

"Well then, let me try with Ianto - you're doing it all wrong."

"No, don't you give up on her, don't you dare!" Jack flung himself from Ianto to protectively wrap Gwen in his arms, as if he could shield her from Andy's doubts. She was frozen in his arms, unresponsive as he pressed his forehead to hers, fastening his lips over hers and forcing air into her lungs. She did not stir, even when he began to push down on her ribs in rhythmic synchronisation to his own pounding heart. _Breathe,_ he order her lifeless body, _breathe! _He groaned in audible misery. What was the use of her kissing life into him if he was unable to do the same?

"How's Ianto?" He demanded of Andy, who was working over the other man in tense silence.

"Alive, but unconscious. I'll bet there's water blocking up his lungs." As if to prove his point he beat fervently on Ianto's chest until a large amount of water came spilling up as Ianto coughed and spluttered.

Feeling a renewed sense of hope, Jack returned his attention to Gwen, locking his hands over her chest in an attempt to repeat Andy's movements.

"Er - Jack?"

"What Andy?"

"We have company."

Tearing his eyes from Gwen's inert body, Jack recognised the blurry shapes of Erin, Robert and Gavin racing towards them along the Barrage, the glinting, metal shapes of guns in their hands reflecting light from the sparse street lights and the pewter moon.

"Great - that's just what we need," Jack watched as Andy forced Ianto into a sitting position. "Ianto! Ianto, are you all right?"

"What…" His voice was faint, weak, strained as the words choked in his restricted throat, "what's going on?" He crawled to Jack's side and wrapped his shaking arms around both team mates before moving to lay Gwen on the floor. "Jack, is she…?"

"She'll be fine," even he didn't believe the lie, "as soon as we get her breathing. Andy - help me!"

The police officer knelt beside her, pushing Jack out of the way, and seized her head in his hands, beginning the resuscitation he had done with Ianto. "Jack, I really don't think… her brain's been starved of oxygen for god knows how long…"

"Just do it," he growled through his gritted teeth, reaching out a trembling hand to tenderly stroke her white face.

"Jack," Ianto whispered at his side, taking Jack's other hand in his, "I remember. She was so strong, so brave. They knocked me unconscious, she must've kept me above the water. Jack, she saved my life." Jack nodded dumbly, she had saved his life too, in more ways that he had previously realised. She _was _his life. "Jack, she wouldn't want you to kid yourself like this. She wouldn't want you to stay here when she's…"

"Yes she would," he'd never expected to muster such anger into his voice when speaking to one as loved as Ianto, "you don't know what she would want. I do. That time, after Abaddon, she didn't give up on me, she stayed by my side for three days. She believed. And if that's what it takes to get her breathing again, then that's what I'll do."

"Jack," Andy's voice punctuated his resolve, "Jack, it isn't working. She's gone."

"No she isn't!" He cried, pushing Andy aside and lifting Gwen onto his lap, all the time aware that Robert and the others still thundered ever closer to them. Tenderly, as if saying a final goodbye, he pressed his lips to hers and breathed outwards, downwards to her lungs, exhaling until there was no breath left to give, yet still he kept his lips on hers, breathing out. Lights popped before his closed eyes, everything grew dark and faint, Ianto's worried voice faded to oblivion and Gwen's body in his arms was weightless. He felt his heart slowing, he felt life _impossibly _draining out of him, felt his soul thinning as if it was pouring from his body and into Gwen's. Dizzy and unfocused, he drew his lips from hers and swayed on the ground, dimly aware of Andy rushing forwards to resume compressions on her.

"Breathe," Jack commanded as if he could will her into life. Seeing that Robert and the others would reach them in what was only a matter of seconds, Jack climbed to his feet. "Stay with her," Jack ordered Ianto, and pulled Andy up to stand beside him, "Andy, this is the ultimate promotion. Just stand there and look tough." The joy of finding Gwen and Ianto and the exhilaration of searching for the canister underwater dissolved into nothingness as he faced the oncoming band of traitors.

The shape that was Robert raised his gun with a grim look set on his face and pointed it emotionlessly at Jack, shouting:

"Just stay there."

Behind him, Jack was faintly aware of Gwen's frantic, jittery movements as she emerged back into life, followed by the violent heaving as water spurted from her lungs. Jack smiled slowly as warmth washed over him, alongside the feeling that this ordeal was over. Nothing could be worse than the unexplained loss of his team, but now they were safe.

Gavin, in turn, raised his gun at Jack and Andy, "We mean it, Captain Clueless, just don't move, and everything will go smoothly."

"Oh," Jack cocked his head to one side, "like this whole thing has been going smoothly so far? Yeah, the deal's up. I guess my memory got triggered because I sure as hell remember a few reasons to beat you guys to a pulp."

"Oh but Jack," Erin started forward, "you wouldn't hurt us - would you?"

Jack scoffed, "trust me, there's nothing I wouldn't do to you three now after what you've done to the people I love. Look at them," he pointed down at Gwen, who was coughing and wildly clutching at Ianto, "and then tell me why I shouldn't hurt you."

"What the-" Gavin began, but Robert had surged forwards and pointed his gun directly at Jack and, before Jack had any time to respond, darkness engulfed him following an almighty _bang_. Suddenly, with no warning, he was plummeting downwards into the abyss, fighting to cling to life, screaming at his whirring synapses to fire back into motion. Faintly, as if in the far distance, he heard Andy, Ianto and Gwen screaming and shouting as they rushed towards Robert, Gavin and Erin. Jack heard the far-off cocking of a gun, followed by another release of a bullet. He heard the resounding grisly connection that it made with human flesh and the staggering breaths that emitted from the victim. He heard Gwen's heart wrenching wails and Andy's frantic phone call to the emergency services. Ianto was shouting indistinct words of anger and yet still - impossibly! - Jack was falling through the abyss, even as he could hear their voices.

Someone fell with a dull thump on the ground beside him, someone whose breathing was laboured with injury and who was groaning in immense pain. Nearby, Jack heard Gwen sobbing and gasping for breath, and his heart juttered in a useless attempt to jumpstart.

Confused and desperate to know which of them had received the second bullet, Jack fought the approaching blanket of death. His hands flailed and connected with the bloody hand of someone warm and trusted, and they gripped his fingers responsively. In a gurgled and augmented yet familiar voice, they whispered his name and he sighed as he slipped down into the abyss of death beside them.

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**Oo, don't you just _hate_ me now? Don't worry, all will be revealed in the next chapter, as soon as I write it =D**


	8. Oh, take me back to the start

**Much thanks and love to my Beta Reader Jaz =)**

**And of course, love to the readers for such a wait =P**

**Enjoy!**

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Jack was faintly aware of an almighty pain, as if it were happening to someone else, and his stomach reeled when he caught the sickly scent of congealing blood close by. His head literally _banged, _it pounded as if some tiny pixie were seated inside of it, thumping angrily. He'd been through this before, this torturous pain of a bullet through the brain, yet never had he imagined such desperate anxiety for his friends. The figure at his side, and the fingers clutching his, had succumbed to death long ago and the sounds of struggle had died down.

Someone was kneeling at his side, had plucked his hand from the cold, dead fingers of his fallen comrade. He could not begin to imagine who it was, did not want to consider the inevitable possibility that either Gwen, Ianto or Andy lay lifeless at his side. Someone's coarse fingers stroked his temples, brushed back flyaway hair from his eyes, and rolled him over so that he lay on his back. Warm tears dropped onto his face, traced marks over his cheeks, down his neck; salty, comforting tears collected in the corners of his mouth.

Desperately fighting to shrug off the cloak of death, Jack raised weak hands to cup his comforter's face, stem the tears with his thumbs, feel for some distinguishable feature. Clutching his hands, a soft voice whispered something indistinct yet kind in his ear.

Feeling the stab of exhilaration that the voice had been Welsh, and endearingly familiar, Jack floundered in the darkness, forcing his eyes open despite the foggy resistance of his mind. Blearily, he saw the black sky above, punctuated by sparse patterns of white stars and the occasional glitter of aircraft.

Hardly daring to move, hardly wanting to feel the unbearable wrench of death in his heart, Jack slowly turned his aching head to the side, feeling once more for those cold fingers. Retching, howling in misery, Jack was instantly plunged into the icy world of the living as he stared helplessly down at Ianto's still, blood-streaked body. His fingers searched for a pulse, and instead were met by the sticky sweat of death. Disbelieving, and indignant after everything that had happened that night, Jack pounded on Ianto's chest as if the impact could order him into life. It was impossible - unthinkable! - _mad _- Ianto could not be dead! Such a thing was… _wrong _and cruel, unjust after such a valiant fight to be reunited with him.

Through his mantra of thought, he heard dim and distant words meant to comfort him, he felt a small hand resting on his shoulder as if in some weak offering of solace. Somewhere, police sirens were wailing, refusing to let him sink and wallow in the coldness of death. He had felt death a thousand times, a thousand different ways, yet never as painful as this, never as painful as cradling _another _of his dead friends.

"Jack."

Turning away from the sounds of sirens, Jack gripped Ianto tighter, pleading to be able to pass his eternal life into the empty shell of his beloved Welshman. Perhaps, if he sat like this for long enough, Ianto would breathe again.

"Jack, please."

Nothing else mattered, Jack _had _to bring Ianto back. Remembering what he had done with Gwen before, he pressed his lips over Ianto's, and his heart wrenched as he touched the man's icy skin. As before, he breathed outwards, yet he felt no thinning of his soul, no movement of his heart. Disgusted, he let out a groan of despair: _why… why had he been able to save Gwen and not Ianto? _The pain of losing Gwen was nothing compared to this, was nothing compared to the way in which his heart and veins ached for Ianto.

"Jack, please, the police want…"

"Get them away. Get rid of them. I don't want-"

"Jack, they need to… they _have _to come and-"

"Get them away!" He gathered Ianto's broken body in his arms as he clambered to his feet, dizzy and disorientated from the bullet, just as Gwen reached out to support Ianto's lolling head.

"Where did those bastards go?" Jack growled.

Gwen hesitantly replied, "they flipped when Andy called the police. They ran, Jack. I would've gone after them but… Ianto…" She gestured sadly down at the lifeless body in Jack's arms, and potent tears of grief cascaded down her pale cheeks. "God Jack, I'm so sorry, I couldn't - I tried - but… That _bitch _grabbed hold of me while the other two set on Ianto." It was only now, as he peered past the foggy curtain of shock, that he saw her as he had before all of this. She was brave, strong and caring. Her hands were entirely covered with congealing, dark blood, her hair was stringy from the water, her cheeks were gaunt and her eyes shadowed with horror.

"We'll deal with this together," Jack nodded, turning his head to face the approaching police and SOC officers, "just like before. Me and you. Torchwood. This is what we do." His sigh was heavy and symbolised the extent of his grief as he laid Ianto's cold body steadily on the ground and wrapped his arms around Gwen. The officers descended like flies upon the crime scene. Questions buzzed around them irritatingly, officers spoke on tinny mobile phones and sipped steaming cups of tea and coffee in the chilly night air. Jack and Gwen looked on in dim wonder as their friend was lifted onto a stretcher and carried respectfully towards a waiting ambulance.

"Wait," Jack turned to Gwen, "I want to go with him."

She nodded, she touched his hand gently, she _understood. _Squeezing his hand again, she slowly picked her way, legs trembling, towards the officials clustered near the ambulance.

The paramedic cast Jack a disapproving glare, "Are you family?"

"Yes," Gwen said without hesitation, "we're the closest thing he has to a family. We love him. We spend every day, and sometimes every night, together. I trust him with my life, I _have _done so many times."

"All right," the paramedic stepped aside to allow them access to the ambulance, resting a hand on Gwen's arm, "who's his next of kin?"

"Erm," she glanced at Jack, who shrugged, "I'm not sure. Perhaps his parents?"

The paramedic raised an eyebrow, "we have to notify the next of kin. Do you have a contact number? We need to go through the necessary proceedings…"

Gwen gestured helplessly, Jack raised his trembling hands to cover his ears. _No, no, no… _This was not happening, Ianto wasn't lying dead in a growling ambulance…

"I'm his…" Jack began, before realising that he had no idea who Ianto's next of kin might be. He sighed, "his sister's number is in his phone. I'll bring it to the hospital later, just let us in the ambulance."

The paramedic sighed, stood back and granted them access to the ambulance.

_This is it, _Jack thought, _this is really it. This is how life ends._

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**More coming soon(ish) =D**

**Probably when I come back from my trip to Cardiff (which, if you know me, is a _HUGE_ deal!) next week.**

**=)**

**Reviews, as always, are love 3**

**xx**


	9. Playlist

You might have noticed (or might not have, I'm not sure how it came across in my writing) but all of these chapters were inspired by music (my entire life is inspired by music) and most of the titles are lyrics from the songs (extra cookies for anyone who finds the specific line). So, I thought I'd put up a list, because I love lists and want to share music loveliness with my lovely readers. The chapters are numbered.

* _If you listen to these songs and read these chapters at the same time, hopefully everything will make a whole lot more sense._

** _I'll happily send MP3 files to anyone who asks, because music is love. Just leave your email address in a review or a PM and I'll gladly send you the files. _

*** _Oh, and before I forget, the overall song that I listened to as I wrote the entire thing and (I think I mentioned this somewhere) before I had the dream that sparked this off was James Blunt's 'Carry You Home'. _

_It's up to you to judge where it fits best in the storyline…_

1, 2 & 3 : I don't think I listened to any particular song when writing these chapters, maybe a combination of the ones I'll mention later.

4. Definitely 'Map of the Problematique' by Muse. Love it.

5. 'This is the last time' by Keane. My favourite song then, and still one of my favourites now. Classic.

6. 'The Scientist' by Coldplay. One of the best songs I've ever heard, such an all-time legend. I listen to this one loads when I'm writing, so it'll probably crop up in this list quite a bit =)

7. Ahh, 'Tears and rain' by James Blunt, the kinda song that makes me cry, so it fits perfectly with a chapter that made me cry.

8. Again, 'The Scientist' by Coldplay (I said!!) because it is the perfect song to make me write. I wish I lived inside this song. 3

9. Hmm. This one's not a song I listen to much, but it must have stuck in my head when I wrote this chapter. It's 'The way life's meant to be' by Electric Light Orchestra (ELO). It's my mum's favourite band, so I guess I've heard it enough times over the years to have memorised all the words.

10. ELO must have had more of an impact on me than I thought (lol) because this chapter was inspired by another of their songs, 'Showdown'. Nice violins in this song.

11. Aww, another song to make me cry. 'One of the brightest stars' by James Blunt again. I thought it was Ianto's perfect song, seeing as he's such a bright star and all. The title of this chapter is one of my favourite song lyrics of all time =D and pretty much sums up the way I imagined Jack and Gwen to be feeling at the time.

12. One from my favourite band now, My Chemical Romance and 'I don't love you' which I just thought verbalised all the irony of Jack's decision. Poor Jack.

13. More James Blunt now, this one was 'Cry' and again, makes me cry every time. It's all about the power of friendship, something which I tried to fill this chapter with, and hope I succeeded.

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**More chapters coming soon =D**


	10. Too late to cry

**Here we have it loyal readers, chapter nine :] Enjoy!**

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The hospital was a place of death, a place Jack knew too well. How many times had he sat in these halls, clutching cups of tasteless coffee, praying to the unknown that death would not visit that night? And how many times had Gwen sat between police officers, discussing homicide cases? Yet he knew, from the whitewashed palate of her face, from the tightness of her grip on his hands, that she had never been here for a friend.

Was he losing her? Had he already lost Ianto? Nurses, porters, nameless doctors hurried to and fro, here and there, ignorant of Jack's burning questions. Occasionally one of the police officers would reach out to touch the arm of a passing nurse, enquire about Ianto's condition, only to receive a shrug and the overused reply that he was 'still in a critical position'.

Jack had never stayed silent for so long. He had never sat for so long without laughing, bursting out with a witty comment or simply speaking aloud his thoughts. He had never been so bitten with panic.

The clock neared two in the morning and Jack's desperation for answers was driving him mad. He could have ran, of course he could, could have ran for miles, driven by a need to slaughter those murdering impostors. But no, his sobbing heart, his terrific grief kept him fixed to the grey chair, waiting. Gwen drew her legs onto the seat, rested her head in Jack's lap and he knew, from her deep breathing and the slackened grip on his hands, that she had slipped into sleep. Was he losing her?

From the whiteness of the doctor's face as he drew nearer, Jack knew. It was unexplainable, the hue that death leaves on someone's face, yet it was clear from the distress in the doctor's eyes what had happened. He cast a sympathetic look towards Jack and Gwen, still peaceful in sleep, and coughed nervously.

"No," Jack couldn't remember standing up, yet how else would he be glaring at the doctor? How else would Gwen have jerked awake?

"Mr Harkness, Miss Cooper, I'm sorry but… your friend wasn't able to make it through the surgery. The bullet pierced his heart, punctured his left aortic valve, reparation was next to impossible…"

Years of experience, centuries of immortality, worldly battles a million light-years away… nothing had prepared Jack for this feeling of loss, severe loss that cut through him painfully. He was falling headfirst into the void, he was _becoming _the void, becoming the blackness, the darkness, becoming cold and angry and insane with disbelief. He had felt death a thousand times, yet never had it been as painful as this, as hearing those finite words that Ianto Jones would never be by his side again.

"No but-" Gwen stammered, "he'll be okay, right? He's strong, he can survive it, right?"

"Miss Cooper, he was unable to pull through."

"Yeah but he'll be okay. He… can't be dead - he just can't! - he's… It's his birthday next month - I booked a hot air balloon ride over Glamorgan. Just him and Jack - Jack! Jack, he can't be dead, can he?"

"Miss Cooper-"

"No! He's strong, he's gone through worse than this. He's Ianto."

"My deepest condolences Miss Cooper - Mr Harkness - I know this is a troubling time for you-"

"No you don't! How could you know…? You don't know anything about us, or him, or anything that's happened tonight. This is Torchwood business, so-"

"Mr Harkness, please," the doctor appealed in a quiet voice, gesturing to Gwen.

"Gwen." Jack was surprised to hear his voice so cut and broken, as if he had not spoken for decades.

"Not again Jack, it can't happen again Jack. We can't lose him…"

"Again, I'm sorry for your loss. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must speak with the next of kin - the police have retrieved his sister's number."

At the thought of those uniformed officers in Ianto's spotlessly tidy flat, Jack's stomach dropped with the realisation that _this was true. _There was no consolation, no word of comfort that could make it better, yet it was true… Ianto was-

"But he isn't! Jack - please - he can't be - not another one - Jack it isn't-" She was howling, clutching at the lapels of his dusty RAF coat, her cries cutting through to his very soul. His hands pushed her hair back from her face, secured themselves around her shoulders, and he whispered childish things to calm her frantic tears. It would be all right, he told her, everything would be okay. She would be okay.

They stood that way, locked in grief and misery, for what could have been hours, with Gwen wretchedly sobbing into his coat, and Jack repeatedly stroking her hair down. His own face was dry and pale, devoid of tears, captivated by suffering. It was too late to cry now, too late to cry for Ianto.

Gwen needed him. _He _needed himself to be strong, to be alert, to be ready - those murderers were waiting - they had killed Ianto, had broken Gwen - and it had been so long since he had felt this cold rush of rage through his veins.

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**R&R, as always, for many many cookies! :D**

**I love getting comments, they make my day!**

**Chapter 10 coming soon **

**x**


	11. Tonight, the longest night

**Wahey, here we have it, yet another chapter for you to sink your teeth into (not literally, I hope). Enjoy! :D**

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The Hub was silent, it had never been this silent in all the decades of memories that Jack had collected. Never had the dissonant dripping of the water tower been so dimmed, never had the pterodactyl's howling been so hushed, almost as if she knew, from the defeated traipse of the remaining team, what tragedy had passed between them. The computers bleeped dolefully, almost in comfort to the team, as the constant rise and fall of their beeping provided a sense of reassurance that Torchwood could go on, life could go on.

With unspoken meanings, Jack signalled to Gwen that they should sit in his office, surround themselves with everything Torchwood symbolised, with the papers and the electronics and the centuries of history that only Jack could understand.

In silence, Jack snagged two coffees from the machine as he passed, switching off the computers with his spare hand. If Cardiff was in jeopardy, saving the world could wait. _Tonight, _his mind echoed words he'd spoken before, in a happier time, to Ianto, _tonight we're only human._

The office was cold, perhaps it was the essence of death, but even Jack felt chilled as he settled the boiling coffees on the desk. Wordlessly, he shrugged his RAF coat off and draped it slowly around Gwen's shuddering shoulders, thinking unbearably of Ianto as he did so. It was a strange feeling, every tiny aspect of the Hub yielded painful memories of Ianto, every corner could be linked with Ianto in some way. His unfinished report on Jack's desk, detailing the correct procedure for Retconning civilians, that the Welshman had asked Jack to look over before all of this had ever happened - everything held a story, everything brought the pain back.

Even Gwen, damp with water, her dark hair straggling and clinging to her white face, reminded Jack of the struggle he had overcome to reunite himself with both of them, only to have Ianto painfully ripped from his life.

"You need to change your clothes," Jack commented in a flat voice, sipping the coffee absently. Perhaps it was his empty tone of voice, but Gwen did not seem to register that he had even spoken, her faded eyes remained fixed on the far wall.

"You'll catch a cold," he forced more meaning into the second sentence, he _was _concerned for Gwen's health. No one should be as unreachable as her. "Drink your coffee."

"Yes boss."

He met her eyes hurriedly, hoping for a glint of sarcasm that might mean she wasn't as unreachable as he feared - yet, as she impassively lifted the steaming carton to her lips, Jack saw that she was simply obeying him, like a frightened child. Was he losing her? Perhaps he had already lost her beside Ianto.

"Do you have a spare change of clothes here?"

She shrugged noncommittally, "I don't know…" The sound of her own voice seemed to scare her, and her tortured eyes met Jack's, she was pleading with him for something he did not understand.

"We're going to the funeral," it was almost as if she was demanding it of him.

Jack sighed, "there'll be a police investigation, they'll want to-"

"Andy will sort it."

"But he's only a PC."

"He'll sort it. He will."

"Ok," arguing with her would get him nowhere. But then again, where was he now, if not stuck, suspended between life and death, in which the only two people he cared about were practically beyond his reach?

"But there's nothing you can do?"

"I can't control the police Gwen, you know-"

"I didn't mean that. I meant…" She froze, but he caught the meaning sure enough. Ianto, she meant Ianto, and saying his name was impossibly painful now.

"No, there's nothing, don't you think I would have done _something _by now? With Tosh and Owen - I tried! - but there's nothing… All we can do now is carry on."

"I don't want to." She said it so fast, so assured, that Jack was certain she did not know what she had said.

"What do you mean, how could-"

"I mean, I really don't want to," she was nodding now, almost alive with the idea. "How can we? We're stupid Jack, to kid ourselves that we can carry on after all this. It was hard enough without Tosh and Owen… But now, what can we do? What can me and you do, Jack, against the world?"

"Stop it. You're angry, you're sad, you're beaten, whatever, just don't… just don't say those things. The world? You and me - we've taken on the world so many times, just me and you. Suzie - Abaddon - thousands of Weevils - we've done so much, just me and you. And now _this…_ we can cope with this." He smiled weakly, "I'm your boss, so you do what I say, and stop saying those things."

"Yes boss," this time there was sarcasm, and he laughed bitterly. All the same, the resolution in her cold eyes had scared him, _really _scared him, much more than anything else had that night. As long as he had Gwen, the future seemed friendlier, easier to deal with, less empty - but without her…

"Are you warm enough?"

This question seemed to catch her off guard, because she frowned gently before nodding and pulling the lapels of his coat tighter around her shoulders.

"What are we going to do?"

His mind was empty of everything except rage. "You're going to go home to Rhys - and, when I've drank this coffee, I'm going to get those bastards, break every single one of their bones and -"

"I don't want to. Go home to Rhys - I can't, not now, not after all this. I know he's probably going crazy with worry, God knows what's going through his mind but… I can't deal with him now. I'll go home tomorrow, yeah? Just… let me stay here tonight, please?"

"Gwen-"

"It's just Torchwood! It does this to you, it gets inside your life, it _becomes _your life. After all this - how can I be anywhere but here? I need to stay here, I _have _to, this is… home, this is home."

And he nodded, because what else was there to do? What could he have said that would have changed her stubborn Welsh mind? What could more could he do to force her to keep a hold on her life outside Torchwood?

"Ok," and for Gwen, that was enough. She smiled, a distant and ghostly smile, but it was bright enough to remind Jack exactly why Torchwood existed - to nurture hope, to ready the human race, to protect those who needed him. And right now, whether he wanted it or not, Gwen needed him on this longest of nights.

Again in silence, they walked from the office, Gwen still hugging Jack's coat to her, until they reached the battered old sofa. Wordlessly, she half-sat, half-lay on the grey couch, drawing her knees up to her chest, trembling with held back tears.

Slowly, as if he were afraid of startling her, Jack sat behind her, wrapped his own arms around her knees, pulled her towards him, buried his head on her shoulder, feeling his own tears flow free. For the first time that night, he cried for Ianto, let all the grief and torture of the past few days escape from his shaking body. Gwen's hurts also seemed to fall from her, and he heard her whispering aloud all the terrors and nightmares that must have occurred whilst she was trapped underwater.

"I never knew," Jack sobbed as she poured out her fears. He could never have guessed that this brave girl called Gwen had been so fearful over the past few days, had been so shaken up by everything that had happened - not just Ianto's death.

"I thought you didn't care," her voice was terrible, almost inhuman with her fear, "I thought you'd left us down there. I was so angry with you - I hated you! - because… _why?! _I wanted to die, I couldn't see the sense in fighting if you'd given up on me. If you weren't coming to save me, who would? I hated myself for relying on you so much… And I didn't care anymore, didn't care what happened, didn't care if I lived or died, because it seemed like you didn't either."

"Stop it," he murmured into her shoulder, "You know what happened. If I had known, I would never have let them take you, not in a million years would anyone have laid so much as a finger on either of you."

"I know, but…They did, and… it hurt Jack, so much."

Jack, with all his immortality, had never understood a human's capacity for fear. He had no fear, he knew no terror, only the fear of what trauma Gwen was going through.

"I can still feel it now. The water, biting into my lungs, the coldness almost breaking my bones. And all along I kept thinking: 'where's Jack? Why isn't he here? Why doesn't he care?'"

"I do care."

She was almost deaf to his words, "And I was confused, because I was wondering what I'd done wrong to make you just leave us like that. I was thinking what I'd done to make you hate me so much that you'd just leave me to die."

"I don't hate you Gwen, this is crazy talk."

"Well maybe I'm crazy then."

Her words frightened him, everything about her frightened him, and his arms grew instinctively tighter around her. "You're all I have left. In the whole wide world, in all the universe, through all of time, you're the only thing I care about. So you can say what you like, but it doesn't change what I'm saying, and it doesn't change how sorry I am that I put you through that. And if you don't believe me, I promise I'll make them pay for everything they did to you - both of you."

She was rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth with the same timeless stare she had had in the office. He was losing her, of that he was sure. Torchwood had done this to her, had broken whatever had kept her strong for so long. Jack had done this to her.

They sat that way, locked in that endless rocking, until Jack grew tired of watching the long hours crawl by, and eventually the rocking ceased as Gwen settled into a fitful sleep as she leaned back against Jack.

"You're not crazy Gwen Cooper," he whispered against her ear, "I know you."

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**Aaaaaand... you guessed it, reviews and comments are the utmost love and, as always, come with free cookies. Chocolate chip, double chocolate, blueberry... XD R&R because I do love hearing you guys' opinions (:**


	12. We were the ones who saw you first

**Hey guys, sorry this is a bit late, I've kinda lost touch with the internet =O But anyway, cookies for my loyal readers :D Read on for the saddest chapter yet . ...**

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That October afternoon was blustery, even by Cardiff's standards. Winds beat at the wreaths of flowers carried by the mourners and spilt the petals on the ground, dancing, racing petals of red and white. Rain, slick and icy, dropped mournfully downwards, heavy and unforgiving, crumpling the hymn-sheets within seconds as the lines of Welsh relatives and friends filed into the small Chapel, clutching coats around them, teeth chattering with the cold.

Last to enter was Jack, his RAF coat loose around his brilliant black suit, with Gwen clutching at his hand, her black dress whipping around her legs. His shoes had been polished to within an inch of their life, Gwen had painstakingly straightened her hair despite the relentless winds - indeed, everything hadto be perfect for Ianto Jones's funeral.

Jack remembered the last time he had attended a memorial service, it was all too clear in his mind. Gwen had insisted that Tosh and Owen received what she called a 'proper send-off'. They had driven the SUV to each flat and boxed up two entire lives in the space of two hours. Distraught, Gwen had enforced the idea of burying the boxes instead of locking them in storage - a right which Jack had not dared deny her of.

Her resolution had scared him then, and it frightened him today. She clung to his hand like a child in a busy supermarket, in absolute silence, her eyes wide as she focused on every person that respectfully filed into the Chapel.

"Shall we go in then?" He peered down at her, worried that even now she would refuse to speak. She had not spoken since 9 o' clock the previous evening, when he had told her the date of Ianto's funeral. A week after his death, and Gwen had still refused to return home to Rhys. She'd called him, had various arguments over the phone with him, and had grudgingly told him that she was staying in a hotel in Aberystwyth for a few weeks. He was angry, and rightly so, but Gwen refused to see him. Her grief, Jack knew, was killing her marriage and any hope for her life outside Torchwood.

"Yes," it was a relief to hear her voice, however strained and faint it sounded.

Together they entered the 18th Century Chapel, their steps echoing around the cavernous stone walls as they drifted towards their designated seats at the back. Jack, with all his 51st Century splendour, received a few looks, and Gwen's distraught appearance earned her a few worried glances. Their appearance confused the mourners, and rightly so, for Jack doubted that Ianto had ever mentioned his real job to any of them. Standing at the front however, was Ianto's sister, who nodded in acknowledgement to Jack and raised a trembling sheet of paper in front of her face.

"_Ahem!_" She began pointedly, "thank you all for coming today. I know this can't be easy… 'specially not when my brother's concerned, eh?" This earned her a few uncertain laughs, and Gwen tensed at Jack's side. "Anyway, I know none of us expected this, gosh it came as such a shock, I know. But, I made him a promise when he was eighteen and he moved to London, and I promised that if anything happened to him, I'd do my bit to make sure he was remembered for who he is - was."

"An alien hunter?" Gwen muttered beneath her breath. Jack glared at her anxiously as a nearby elderly woman raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"And who was he? Well he was probably the kindest man I ever knew," Ianto's sister carried on, "And I know I'm _supposed _to say that, but he really was. He was great with the kids. He was so protective of me when we were little, I used to say to him, 'Ianto, you best join the Army because you're great at teamwork'. But he never did, eh? Office work, that's what my brother loved. When I was seven, mam got me this massive stationary set - and we all laughed when Ianto took the whole thing and organised it into sections. Anyway… what I'm trying to say is, he was a great man. The best brother, the perfect uncle, he was _brilliant._ I only wish h-he hadn't d-d-died so young. I used to tell him 'when will you find yourself a lovely girl?' but I guess he never took much notice of anything I said. He used to say it was his job to protect me… b-but who was there to protect him?"

"He never told them about you," Gwen whispered.

"He never had the chance," Jack replied defensively.

At the front, his sister was struggling to contain her tears, and her husband had rested a plump arm around her shoulders, saying, "Yeah, Ianto was a top bloke. We're all gonna miss him."

Ianto's sister wavered on the spot, evidently wanting to say more but not sure she could hold the tears back, "And it was such a shock to lose him so young - and in such a horrible way. Like I said, he was the best, that's all there really is. He was always the best at anything he did, he always tried so hard, especially when it was for his family and friends. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the people he loved, so I suppose we're all blessed. We're lucky to have known him, and I'll miss him so much. Every night, I think it can't be true, but it is a-and…" She eventually crumpled into her husband's arms and two small children ran to comfort their mother.

"They didn't know him at all," Gwen muttered cynically, clapping along with the rest of the mourners.

"They just knew a different side to him, that's all."

"No," she insisted, "they _didn't _know him. They don't know how he saved the world every week, how he kept us all safe, how he made sure the entire Torchwood organisation ran smoothly. Without him, the whole thing would have gone to crap years ago. They don't know how he wrestled Weevils down to the cells, how he tracked aliens in the SUV, how he literally picked up all our slack. They didn't know him, they're his family and they didn't know a single thing about who he really was."

Slowly, the coffin bearers rose to hoist the thin box that contained Ianto onto their shoulders. His brother-in-law headed the group, and their faces were grim as they marched past the various mourners to the sounds of Handel's 'Largo'.

Sobbing, Gwen pointed towards the coffin, "you should be up there Jack, that should be you."

Gradually the mourners joined the procession out into the Cemetery, Jack and Gwen unsurprisingly at the back, and Ianto's family began to recite Psalm 23.

"He wasn't even religious," Gwen hissed bitterly, loud enough for a frail-looking uncle to hear.

"Gwen, stop it," Jack squeezed her hand tighter in warning.

At the designated site, the coffin bearers fixed ropes around the wooden box and gently lowered Ianto into the neatly dug hole, while the priest gave his universal speech and various family members succumbed to tears.

One by one, each of the mourners stepped forwards to drop a single white rose onto the wooden box, still reciting Psalms whilst the priest continued.

Gwen shuddered against the cold, "he hated roses. Said they gave him itchy eyes." Without another word to Jack, she walked forwards, clutching a silver device in her trembling hands. Kneeling down by the graveside, she whispered, 'goodnight _cariad,_' and, as she placed it carefully on the coffin, Jack saw that it was Ianto's comms headset. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her thankfully, letting her cry out her misery into his coat.

The mourners looked on, confused and ashamed at Gwen's obvious show of grief, and slowly dispersed to the wake under the guidance of Ianto's weeping sister. When the sun set, and fresh earth was piled on top of the grave, only Jack and Gwen remained, crouching on the dew-speckled grass.

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,"_ Jack sighed, "all human life succumbs. And for that I'm sorry Ianto, truly sorry. But I know it would make you feel safer and at peace to know that we'll carry on, in your memory, in your name, because of you."

"We will," Gwen agreed, "But you have to promise to say 'hello' to Tosh and Owen. Tell them we love them, tell them we miss them, tell them we're sorry. We love you too Ianto. Thank you, for being there." Her cries echoed on the wind, sounding like a ghoulish moan floating over the moors, and Jack shivered involuntarily. Almost instantly, his arms were around her shoulders, his sobs joined hers until he managed to convince her to stand.

"I don't want to leave him here," she protested weakly.

"He'll be okay; he's got Torchwood protecting him."

By the defeated slump of her body, Gwen understood what he meant. If Ianto had gone where Tosh and Owen had gone, then she knew he must be safe.

"Where are we going?"

He led her away, pulling at her struggling hands. "Home. Back to the Hub. There's something we have to do, before we can get back to work. There's just one last thing I have to do before I can carry on." His eyes were lowered, his face was grim and white. He knew what was coming would be hard, heartbreaking even, but it was for the best… it was all he could do in the circumstances. He literally had no other choice and, he kept telling himself as he hugged her to him, it was for Gwen's own good.

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**=O**

**Yes, a cliffhanger! Haha!**

**Next one is reading and waiting, assuming I don't disconnect from the internet completely... =P**


	13. Get out while you can

**Aaaaah, we're almost finished now! =O**

**I kinda realised how predictable this outcome was, but I tried to write it in a way that would make you cry/smile/beg for cookies.**

**:D Enjoy... x**

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Jack was respectfully slipping Ianto's unfinished report into a plastic wallet on his desk, before it could be resigned to storage. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like Ianto's entire life could be found in the Hub, everything he had done, everything life had given him - it was contained in those watery walls.

Gwen sat in Jack's chair, swaying from side to side, crying. He doubted that she would ever stop crying, not now, not after all of this. Looking at her made his heart burn, but he had no choice if his plan was going to work.

Of course, she hadn't said a word for the entire journey back to the Hub. The SUV had rattled along in eerie silence, and Gwen had only emerged out of her gloomy cloud of depression to buy a can of coke at a nearby Spar. While she was gone, Jack hastily took her phone from the glove box, making a hurried call. A lot was resting on this single phone call, his entire plan would dissolve if this call did not go as planned.

Now, back in the Hub, staring at him through aged eyes, he was witnessing her spirit break.

"Gwen," he cleared his throat, wondering how best to approach this. "Gwen, you trust me, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Trust me enough to do anything - anything I asked? Even if it seems mad and crazy and you don't want to do it - you'd do it, because you trust me?"

"Well, yeah I suppose. What is it Jack?"

"It's just a little thing, one last favour I have to ask of you. Because… it's this job, it gets inside you. And it's my fault, really, all my fault for Owen and Tosh and even Ianto, and everything you're going through now - it's down to me. And… it's time I took responsibility for my actions, it's time I did something back for my team."

"Jack I don't understand, what?"

"It's simple. I loved Ianto, I still love him, and I don't think I ever really told him. It hurts, Gwen, to lose someone you love like that, knowing it was your fault. And I can't bear to lose you like that - and I know - I _just know _- that I will, if I don't do something right now. You're everything Torchwood is about, you're the heart of everything we do, and I couldn't live forever knowing I've hurt everyone I ever loved. If I can just get you out, save you, it'll be enough."

She'd gotten to her feet now, he knew the desperation in his voice was scaring her, but it had to be said. "Please explain."

With a wave of his hand, he moved her out of his way and scrabbled about on the desk, rattling through boxes and loose bits of machinery, until he triumphantly held up a small red box for her to inspect.

"What is it?"

He took the box back, unfastening the top, "Your ticket outta here."

"I don't get it," but her eyes widened when he tipped the contents of the box into her waiting palm: a single white pill, slightly smaller than the average paracetamol tablet.

"Retcon," she sighed dreadfully, as if all the meaning of Jack's plan had come spilling out at once. From the annoyance in her worn voice, he knew this was not going to be easy.

"Retcon _and _a sedative, the perfect blend."

She turned away from him angrily, thrusting the pill into his hand, "I won't take it. You know I won't, and you can't force me. You might as well tell me what you were planning to do, but it won't work now."

"It has to," Jack sank into the chair, "in fact, it's already in motion. I've made a call to Rhys, I actually phoned him a few days ago as well, and everything is sorted. I've transferred all of your Torchwood pay into his account, and given him instructions to put your flat on the market. I've told him I'll deal with everything, and I will. If he follows my instructions, he'll have already put down the deposit on a lovely semi-detached in Swansea and-"

"Swansea! What are you talking about - Jack, this is stupid-"

"This _has _to happen. Now, where was I? Yeah, Swansea, it's a lovely property, not too far from the city centre. According to the estate agent, it's got a lovely front and back garden, big enough to get a swing set in, and a little paddling pool in the summer. It's got three bedrooms, so plenty of room for the pitter-patter of tiny feet."

"What?!"

"Because that's what you do, Gwen, that's what people do. It's human nature, and right now you can't do any of that. So, as your boss, I'm taking responsibility. Now, there's a fantastic nursery school up the road and, even more perfectly, it's a short drive to the police station."

"Why would I -?"

"_Shush, _let me finish. I've also been on the phone to Andy, he's put in the word with your old supervisors that you want to transfer to the Swansea constabulary, and he got me a form. Now, I had to fake your signature and Tosh was always better at that sort of thing than me, but I'd say you've got the job Gwen Cooper."

"Jack, I don't like this, just… stop it, please."

He sighed, buried his head in his hands, "I can't stop it. Everything's already in place. I never knew how easy it would be to just create a new life for you."

"This is mad! I can't take this Jack, I don't want to. You've got no right-"

"Wrong, this is my fault, it's my fault you ever got involved with Torchwood."

"But what about this - my whole life?"

"Easy enough to explain. Rhys will say you've been in a coma, or whatever story he chooses to tell you, and you'll have no memory of the past three years - no Torchwood, no aliens, no trauma. You'll be you again, you'll be that sweet bright girl I met so long ago. In Swansea, none of the memories will ever be triggered, Rhys will make sure of that."

"But I don't want to! I don't want any of that stuff, I want _this. _Torchwood and Cardiff and you. This is my life now, and I'm better when I'm with you. Braver and stronger and you can't take that away from me."

"Gwen, you have to. There's no other choice, not now. It's too much for you, too much for me to watch it pull you in. Three deaths in such a short space of time - how much longer do you think you can last? Six months, a year? It's not nearly enough. You're going to grow old, and have dozens of grandchildren, and have a perfect life, _alive. _So, you'll be a good girl, and do as I say. Open wide." He teasingly held up the pill, and her eyes suddenly became a wall of heavy tears.

"What will you do? Without me?"

"Oh, the usual I expect. Wallow in misery for a few years. Take my heartbreak out on Weevils. And of course, on those three bastards who did all of this to you. But at the end of it all, I'll be okay, because I'll know that you're okay, which is all I really want."

"Won't you miss me?"

"Irrevocably. But I'd rather you be safe and well in Swansea than in constant danger here with me."

"Then you're a coward!" She flung her fists out at him, missing wildly, "And I won't do it Jack bloody Harkness, I won't just erase the best three years of my life, like it never mattered."

Feeling that the situation was getting entirely out of control, Jack caught both of her fists in his right hand and used his left to secure her to him. "Of course it mattered. But you matter much more than that to me, and I won't lose you as well." And, he wasn't quite sure where it even came from, but he kissed her quickly on the lips, much too quickly for her to even react. "Take it, for me, one last favour."

He'd broken her, the determination in his eyes had broken her resolution, because she took a small step back and parted her lips. Slowly, as if his hand was made of lead, he dropped the tiny pill into her mouth and watched as she swallowed it tearfully.

"No going back now," he laughed nervously.

"I hate you for this," she whispered grudgingly, but the tears told him otherwise.

"This is it, then, this is the end. Gwen Cooper, it's been good."

"Is that it?" She glowered, "Three years of me saving your life - never mind that you're immortal - and all you can say is, 'it's been good'?"

"What do you want? A thank you? Okay, sorry. You're right, I should say thank you. Thank you for being you, thank you for being Gwen Cooper, the one who wouldn't give up, thank you for being stubborn and determined and all the things I admire about you. Thank you for believing in me. And, I suppose, thank you for giving me the best three years of your life, which also turned out to be the best three years of _my _life as well."

"Why?"

"Well, because-"

"No, I mean, why are you telling me these things now? Why not months ago? Or before I took the damn pill?"

"Because I knew you'd never take it."

"You…" But her voice trailed off as she swayed uncertainly on her feet, and half-sat, half-collapsed onto Jack's lap in the chair.

"That'll be the sedative," he commented, "good, means it's working."

Her eyes were closing, he doubted that she could even hear him. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I'll stay with you."

"And when I wake up?" She was slurring her words, it would not be long until sleep took over.

"You'll be safe, in Swansea, with Rhys."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Can't sweetheart, sorry. Which means this really is the end."

"I always loved you best, you know."

He laughed bitterly: why had she not told him that years ago? "Yeah?"

"Even when you were dead." She was curling in his lap now, like a sleeping child, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was making the call for Rhys to come and carry her away, out of his life forever. Her face was inches from his, pressed into his collarbone, and, he thought, if she wasn't going to remember it he might as well have something to remember her by.

"I loved you best too Gwen Cooper," he said, his lips on hers even as she murmured her half-asleep reply. Before he'd even finished the kiss, he felt her breathing become deep and slow as she slipped into unconsciousness on his lap.

Sighing, Jack drew the mobile phone from his shirt pocket, dialling Rhys, fighting back the tears as he hugged Gwen's small body to him. Grief could come later, when he had taken out his rage on the three people responsible for everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

"Goodnight _cariad._"

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**Okay, so, I want the truth. Good or not?**

**It made me quite sad, and I hope I did it justice.**

**Cookies/brownies/pancakes for my lovely readers/reviewers as always! =D**


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